Millennium
by percychased
Summary: Don't let your lack of courage let someone leave. Or, from first kisses to first loves, heartbreak and starting anew. One hundred femslash and slash stories, all shown in drabble form, from hellos to goodbyes and from right now to forever.
1. RolandaAlicia

She was going to burn in a special place in hell for this – if she wasn't already there, of course.

Rolanda had maintained over the years a liking-anyone-complicates-everything mantra. Maybe it was stemmed from some childhood trauma, she wouldn't know, or maybe it was just the facts: liking someone makes _everything _more complicated.

But, of course, _she_ has to upset the simple balance of Rolanda's life.

This girl who flies around the Quidditch pitch at dawn with an intensity Rolanda's only seen in herself. Eyes narrowed, almost challengingly, hair in dark waves that brush her shoulders. She catches the rounded Quaffle effortlessly, and despite the fact that this girl was _young enough to be her daughter, _Rolanda can't help but imagining what other appendages might be just as round.

Alicia was almost _teasing _her, leaning over her broom, flying – _whatever _the girl did. Driving her mad.

Upsetting the balance.


	2. CharlieDraco

Draco Malfoy was playing with fire.

Charlie Weasley was around fire all of the time. He lived in fire. And he had the scars to prove it.

Charlie lit the fireplace, visibly relaxing when the air warmed to a little less than freezing. This house was always cold, to his annoyance.

He heard a woman yell, "Bye, Draco!" from another room and the voice of a younger child yell, "bye, Daddy!" And for a moment, that almost made him feel a little guilty about what he was doing. Almost.

The cold stone was digging into his back when Draco strided in. The uneven stone cut against his flesh, and Draco smirked almost challengingly.

It was terrifying the way that man could read his mind – almost as if every thought or feeling Charlie had was wired into his brain.

"Stone can't burn, you know," he remarked, the corner of his mouth curved upward.


	3. RomildaMorag

If Romilda could freeze frame this moment, she would.

She would keep time from moving forward so the euphoria she was feeling wouldn't disappear. She would sit on the sofa with Morag forever, wrapped up in jumpers too big for their slight frames and sipping coffee, letting the mocha liquid warm their insides.

They would talk for hours, giggling over a Muggle television set because neither knew how to set it up, or reminiscing about Hogwarts days and the antics their years used to get up to.

She would never let go, and she would never, _ever, _have to worry about a war and kidnappings and death.

If she had one wish, it would be that.

It could just be them, together, stealing kisses and talking, enjoying the company of one another. Just them, versus whatever evil lay outside the front door.

But for now, it was Romilda and Morag, both trying to hold on to a moment of coffee and jumpers which most certainly wouldn't last forever.


	4. RemusSirius

The silence was maddening.

Remus was so used to something - to anything - that the silence that froze the room chilled his bones and froze his blood.

The chill of the silence was unusual, because he was used to the warmth of secret kisses and drunken promises, and the fire of midnight meetings and the nobody has to find out.

And the silence was all his fault.

Because he would rather stay silent than be public, whereas Sirius had no qualms whatsoever about letting the world know what exactly conspired behind closed doors. Remus thought doors were closed for a reason - if they wanted people to know, they would leave the door open.

He remembered quite vividly the last thing Sirius had said, only hours before when he was only an arms reach away.

"You wanted silence, Moony, you got it."

* * *

_Monthly Slash-tastic Drabble Comp, #4. Ultimate Shipping Comp, Wolfstar. ;)_


	5. DracoCharlie

You just want to feel something, only for a little bit. Only for a little while, you say. You want something to fill the numbness and maybe he can be your saving grace.

You and him, you're dancing without music, you're twisting the bedsheets around your legs, and there it is, he's effectively trapped you with his words and his kisses.

It's not fire and ice, red and silky blonde, anymore. The fire is melting the ice and the ice is demolishing the fire, and soon you're just both melted into each other, creating an atmosphere of your own that keeps everyone else out.

You say the war has been hard. Youth has been hard, and that's an understatement. You've spent so much time worrying that your red has dimmed to copper. He's spent so much time angsting that a part of him will always be torn.

You want to feel something that fills the numbing void, Charlie. And if you're telling the truth, too, you don't want it to just be for a little while.

* * *

_I would say I'm sorry for writing DracoCharlie again, but I'm really not. Dedicated to Amber - I hope this is okay, and many thanks for starting the lovely Monthly Slash-tastic Drabble Competition._


	6. PercyOliver

There used to be a lot of Oliver Wood to go around.

Now, there was just a little bit left; enough for Percy Weasley to decide whether he wanted him or not.

First, it was a game. It was a game of cat-and-mouse, and it was mostly harmless fun with a dash of something underneath the surface.

As sudden as the game started, it wasn't a game anymore. It was real, and he was looking. It wasn't cat and mouse anymore, but more... spider and web, if that made sense. He was spinning and spinning and spinning and hopefully, someday, he'd catch one Percy Weasley.

There used to be a lot of extra web. He could have caught a lot of others - and he knows it, too. But the web has aged over time, because he's charming and dashing and fiery and he's obsessive and compulsive and Gryffindor brave.

Now, there's only a little left. Enough to catch, keep, and comfort.

* * *

_Using 'spider web', #16._


	7. LavenderGabrielle

"I'd much rather the anonymity," admitted Lavender. She had to admit, those words coming out of her mouth were a little bit of a shock, but she wasn't telling anything but the truth anymore.

"Why eez that?" asked Gabrielle. She leaned forward, licking the chocolate off of her lips and smiling.

"Because when they see me there, back in the Wizarding World, they stare, Gabrielle. I thought I liked people looking at me, but they aren't looking at me. They're looking at my scars."

Gabrielle smiled. The chatter of the Parisians was loud, and the French cafe they resided in was bustling with people. Clueless American tourists, mostly, speaking loudly, which ruined the authentic effect of the cafe but she wasn't inclined to move.

Lavender watched as the other girl picked up a chocolate and toyed with it in between her teeth. The girl was just teasing her.

"I'm glad you brought me here." Gabrielle looked proud, if not a little smug.

"'ere, Lavender," said Gabrielle, reaching out towards her. Lavender loved the way she said her name; balancing each syllable on the tip of her tongue, like her name was a secret only she had. "Try zis."

Lavender's lips parted slightly, and Gabrielle brought the chocolate to the other girl's lips. Lavender found that she wasn't looking into her eyes, but instead a bit lower; her lips. Gabrielle watched her as she chewed and swallowed, licking her lips ever so slightly.

* * *

_For #24, chocolate._


	8. MoragSu

"Peppermint or chamomile?"

Those are the words that always greet her when she comes in. Those are the words that she hears every time, without fail. And even if she choses chamomile every single time, Morag's still going to offer and Su is still going to choose, and that's it, that's how it is.

Should she feel a little guilty? Maybe.

Morag has always been there to take Su's fall; her breakup with Romilda, her estrangement with her parents, her brother's death. Morag has always, always been there, and Su doesn't repay anything.

And the thing is, she knows it's very selfish of her. But that's just what she wants; a kiss on the cheek when Morag thinks she's sleeping, a cup of tea, an embrace to melt into and someone to love her.

Love is a very selfish thing, she thinks. Because look at that, just as she's gone and fallen in love with Romilda, the woman leaves.

So maybe it's a bit selfish, yes, but if Morag loves her and maybe she pretends not to love back, neither of them will ever have to leave.

* * *

_prompt #5, "And in the end, you're just one more selfish lover." Emilie Autumn, Misery Loves Company_


End file.
